HARRISON--This monument on Highway 7 south near Harrison marks the spot near Crooked Creek where a wagon train of Arkansas pioneers began their westward trek before being killed by Mormons on Sept. 11, 1857. A movie about the tragedy will be played Sept. 11 at the Lyric Theatre and The History Channel will air a documentary Dec. 15.
When most people think of
9-11 they remember the terrorist attacks at the World Trade Center in New York City.
However, this year on that historic date many Harrison residents will be commemorating
when 121 men, women and children from Boone County were slaughtered by Mormons and Indians
in Utah 147 years ago on Sept. 11, 1857.
Utah filmmaker Brian Patrick will be showing his new film entitled, 'Burying
the Past: Legacy of the Mountain Meadows Massacre,' with shows at 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. Sept.
11 at the Lyric Theatre in downtown Harrison.
The movie chronicles events which began when the Fancher/Baker wagon train carrying almost
150 Arkansas settlers, 16 wagons, 100 oxen and 900 head of cattle began their fateful trek
westward from Caravan Springs located on Crooked Creek a few miles south of Harrison on
Highway 7.
After a five-day siege, the Mormon Militia persuaded the emigrant party to
surrender on Sept. 11. Then the militia and their allies killed all members of the party
with the exception of 17 children under the age of six, who were adopted into Mormon
families. Most of the children were returned to other Arkansas relatives about two years
later.
Historians say that after the Arkansas settlers put up more of a fight than
the Mormons anticipated, Mormons tricked the pioneers by coming into their camp under a
white flag of truce with the promise of allowing them to go free if they laid down their
arms.
With the settlers running short on food, water and ammunition, they decided
to accept the Mormons' false offer of freedom. However, after being marched a few hundred
yards away from their camp, Mormons and a few Indians reportedly shot, clubbed or stabbed
120 people, many of which by then were women and children.
Then-Utah Governor Brigham Young later denied to authorities that he knew anything about
the killings. However, Patrick and most historians insist that Young had to be involved
because he controlled every aspect of the Mormon way of life.
Many Arkansas descendants of the dead pioneers still resent the fact that
after the massacre, the Mormons did not bury any of the victims. Instead, wild animals
such as wolves and coyotes apparently devoured many of the bodies.
After U.S. military soldiers later found out about the murders, they arrived
several months later to bury some remains and erected a cross surrounded with large rocks.
However, many historians agree that Brigham Young later arrived at the scene and kicked
down the cross.
Part of the current controversy remains for Arkansas descendants for two
reasons. The Church of the Latter Day Saints in Utah still has not officially accepted
responsibility that some of their ancestors participated in the massacre. Another aspect
of contention for some ancestors is that the Mormon Church officially owns and maintains
the monument and massacre site containing the bones of their dead.
The massacre occurred about 40 miles southwest of Cedar City, Utah as the pioneers were on
their way to California. "This tragic event marks the worst massacre of Americans by
other Americans in our history prior to the Oklahoma City bombing," according to
Patrick, who teaches film/video classes at the University of Utah.
"The exact cause of this horrific deed has remained mysterious, contentious, and
largely unresolved, especially to the descendants of the victims," Patrick said.
Patrick said it is thought that fear of a military invasion, revenge against
anti-Mormon sentiments, and greed all played a role in the event. Afterward, the
close-knit Mormon society closed ranks to protect its guilty members and only one man -
John D. Lee - was deemed the scapegoat, convicted, and executed for the massacre.
This little-known story of one of the most despicable crimes in the American
West is told through the actual documented account of a four-year-old girl named Nancy
Saphrona who survived the massacre.
Saphrona was 22 years old and married to Dallas Cates when she gave her statements about
the massacre to a Little Rock reporter in 1875.
Reports state that Saphrona was spared because the Mormons thought she was
too young to ever report what she had seen. Saphrona witnessed the slaughter of her entire
family including her father, Peter Huff; her mother, Saletia Ann Brown; two brothers; and
a sister.
Nancy Saphrona was taken away by John Willis, whom she lived with in Utah
until she was returned to relatives in Arkansas two years later. She later died in
Arkansas while she was only in her late 20s, report claim.
Patrick's film includes interviews with historians, descendants of the 17
children whose young lives were spared, visits to family reunions, anthropologists
analyzing bullet-riddled skulls, plus the reenactment of the wagon train battle and
massacre.
The film explores issues of forgiveness, reconciliation, and religious
intolerance with the descendants from both sides of the massacre. "Burying the Past'
also discusses the involvement, cover-up, and responsibility of the Mormon Church for this
horrific event," Patrick said in an interview with the Daily Times.
Beyond the history, the movie chronicles the Mountain Meadows Association's efforts to get
a long-neglected Mountain Meadows monument 40 miles southwest of Cedar City rebuilt,
efforts spurred when Latter Day Saint Church president Gordon B. Hinckley got behind the
project.
Patrick contacted Association members and attended reunions of the survivors' families in
Arkansas. "They seem more interested in telling people about the story and the
details of the actual massacre," Patrick said. "Very few
of them seem to have a deep-seated hatred or resentment. But as I got more and more into
it, I found that those people were out there and these were people who didn't really want
anything to do with the church rebuilding the monument. They had this story in their
ancestry, and they weren't going to give it up."
Back in Utah, Patrick attended reunions of the John D. Lee family, who regard their
ancestor as "a scapegoat who was not the main culprit or the main perpetrator,"
he said.
Recent controversy erupted during construction of the new monument in 1999
when workers accidentally unearthed about 30 pounds of human remains. The LDS Church sent
the bones to archaeologists at Brigham Young University, the last place many of the
Arkansas descendants wanted their ancestors' remains to go.
"All of a sudden, all these lines of aggravation and dissension started cropping up
again," said Patrick, the only person to get videotape of the bones. The film shows
University of Utah forensics experts piecing skull fragments and proving that some of the
massacre victims were shot in the back of the head while others were stabbed or beaten to
death with stones.
"The official reaction from paid Mormon sources to my book has been
virulently hostile, but the personal reaction of the Mormons I've talked to is very
accepting," Patrick said. "The Mormons know what happened and most have not been
fooled by the preposterous frauds that have been perpetuated as history in this case.
They're ready for the truth."
Patrick, who uses several current Boone County residents in the movie, said
that he hopes the film has positive effects. "When we talk about these issues of the
past, it's better than having them still simmer in the background. I hope the movie will
have some positive effects in healing."
Two other groups will also hold meetings in the Harrison area concerning the
147th anniversary of the incident.The Mountain Meadows Massacre Descendants will hold
their organizational meeting Sept. 11 at the Comfort Inn Convention Center in Harrison.
Registration for the event is 8:45 a.m. with the meeting beginning at 9:30.
A television documentary about the massacre is scheduled to air on The
History Channel Dec. 15.
Mark Your Calendars!
TV program investigates history
ENCAMPMENT -- In 1857, one of the most violent episodes in
Western American trail history played out in a mountain meadow in southern Utah. Last
weekend, the Mountain Meadows Massacre was recreated for a forthcoming documentary on the
History Channel.
An isolated, sagebrush-covered landscape on the A Bar A Ranch near Encampment became the
setting for a segment of "Investigating History" produced by Bill Kurtis
Productions of Chicago. The show is expected to air on the History Channel on Dec. 15.
In September 1857, the Fancher emigrant wagon train en route to California from Arkansas
with 16 wagons, 100 oxen, and 900 head of cattle was attacked in Southern Utah by Paiutes
organized by Mormons. After a five-day siege, the Mormon Militia persuaded the emigrant
party to surrender on Sept. 11. Then the militia and their allies killed all members of
the party with the exception of 17 children under the age of six, who were adopted into
Mormon families.
This is a dark story in American Western history, and one of the most violent incidents
ever to occur on the overland route to California. Military Dragoons placed a cross at the
site in 1859, but it was later torn down by Mormon Church President Brigham Young. In
1999, when a new monument was being installed at the site, bodies were inadvertently
unearthed and studied for a brief time by forensic scientists, providing irrefutable proof
of how some of the individuals had died -- many by gunshots and others by blows to the
head. At that time, LDS Church President Gordon Hinckley acknowledged the Mormon actions
of 1857, according to Historian Will Bagley, author of "Blood of the Prophets:
Brigham Young and the Mountain Meadows Massacre."
The story of the Mountain Meadows Massacre for the
forthcoming "Investigating History" program is written by University of New
Mexico history professor Paul Andrew Hutton, who served with Jamie Schenck as a
co-producer on the show. Bill Kurtis was on hand as executive producer and host of the
show; he also ran a camera for the production. Bagley served as an historical consultant.
The documentary was filmed on the A Bar A Ranch southeast of Encampment in order to
provide easier access for wagons and reenactors, most of whom were from Encampment,
Saratoga, and Casper. Military reenactors from Colorado are members of the Army of the
West Military History Association. Darrell LoneBear, Sr., Harvey Spoonhunter and Layha
Spoonhunter from the Wind River Reservation at Fort Washakie portrayed Paiute Indians.
After the first few minutes of filming, Bill Kurtis -- owner of Kurtis Productions, a
former CBS News employee, and host of three television series including
"Investigating History" -- told reenactors his style of film production differs
from many documentary filmmakers. His company uses news techniques in its productions and
runs four cameras at most times. "You can expect that there is a camera on you at all
times," he said when telling members of the emigrant party to "get in the
period" of 1857 and stay there throughout the two full days of filming.
In the process of making the documentary, actors "killed" members of the
emigrant party. Horseback rider James Olguin of Saratoga was the first to "die,"
eventually falling from his horse several times as the scene was recreated multiple times
in order to get different camera angles. The first woman "casualty" was Isabelle
Anderson of Encampment. Lynn Finney, "wounded" in the initial attack, was
dragged to safety no less than five times.
Star-Tribune correspondent Candy Moulton can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected].
Utah! www.utah.com
Three Corners of Earth, Part 2 of 3
History Demands Our Attention
This is the saddest place in Utah. It may even be one of the saddest places in the West. It is called Mountain Meadow. Topographically, it is just that, a mile-high sloping meadow bounded by mountain peaks frosty this morning with new snow and sub-freezing temperatures.
It was in this spot on a morning towards the end of summer in 1857 that a group of Mormons and Indians turned on a band of immigrants headed for California and killed them. It was an act which to this day generates fierce controversy in the state, not to mention heavy emotions. And it is one moment in Utah, defining or not, that we cant seem to collectively shake.
Led by captains John T. Baker and Alexander Francher, a California-bound wagon train from Arkansas 140 members strong camped near the present day site of Enterprise, towards the end of summer in 1857. Early on Sept. 7, a group of Indians and local Mormon Indian missionaries attacked the circled wagons of the Baker-Fancher party without warning. The wagon party fought off the attackers until a contingent of Mormon territorial militia, acting on orders from local church leaders, joined the attack. The battle lasted for four days and 15 emigrant men were killed either in battle or while attempting to escape. On the afternoon of Sept. 11 Mormon forces persuaded the emigrants, who were low on ammunition, food and water, to surrender in exchange for safe passage back to Cedar City. Segregated into groups of children, women and teens, and adult males the group, under heavy guard, was led out of the encircled wagons and northeast up the valley. Upon a pre-arranged command, with the parties now strung out as much as a mile apart across the valley, the Mormons and Indians turned on the emigrants. Of the original 140, including nine cowhands hired to drive the partys cattle, only 17 children under the age of seven survived the trick. Twenty years later John D. Lee, a Mormon leader at the massacre, was tried, convicted and executed by firing squad at the site of the massacre. He considered himself a scapegoat. No one else was ever officially held responsible for the crime. The orphans, except for the possible exception of one, were sent back to Arkansas.
Today, the site, which is just off state Route 18 as it winds through the foothills of the Pine Valley Mountains, is heavy with the judgment of history. It is somber, and quiet. On this frigid morning in mid-March 50 cows bellow in the valley, scraping new snow from spring grass, a car passes on the road, sun comes over the mountains. The public memorial is actually on a low bluff overlooking the valley. The short winding trail has several explanatory plaques along it. At the top is a granite memorial listing the names of the dead. Viewing scopes, cold to the touch, direct the eye to the site of the attack, the encampment, the killing.
This is a site, a period in history, that Utah is just coming to grips with. For the longest time there was almost nothing here mentioning the 1857 event. Then came the granite memorial, but even that did not say who did the killing why. Most today agree that, acting on orders from Mormon church leaders in Cedar City, years of fears, madness and political frustrations motivated the event but, as one of the plaques say, the exact causes and circumstances fostering the sad events--still defy clear or simple explanation. Some suggest the Mormons simply acted on orders form church leaders. Others say the wagon train antagonized Mormon settlers as they passed through the state, poisoning water and shouting epithets. Some believe a group of the emigrants had been in a contingent called the Missouri Wildcats, a group reported to be working with the Illinois mob that killed Mormon church founder Joseph Smith.
Last year, the church came here to restore the crumbling rock cairn that marked the remains of those killed. The cairn sits down in the valley, and when crews working to erect a protective wall around it accidentally dug up some of the graves--which meant anthropologists had to analyze the remains--Utah, again and in a very public format, had to face the act anew.
I tell you this not because I think Mountain Meadow is a great, fun place to visit. It
is not really on the way to anywhere, there are no restaurants nearby and the emotions it
elicits from its visitors is not exactly the ingredients for a great vacation. But I think
being able to place Mountain Meadow in the context of Utah today is an important part of
understanding the state and its people. Think of its equivalents in Americas
history.
Group tours
massacre site By JANE ZHANG [email protected] |
Remembering a tragedy Annual reunion scheduled at massacre site By JANE ZHANG St George Daily Spectrum, Sept 10. 2003 |
MOUNTAIN MEADOWS -- The Mountain Meadows Association, an organization including decendents of both the Arkansas emigrant company and Utah militiamen involved in the 1857 Mountain Meadows Massacre, will have its annual meeting Friday and Saturday in St. George and the Mountain Meadow Monument site. The meeting, which is expected to gather up to 300 people, will focus on healing history's wounds and continuing a dialogue between the Arkansas and Utah sides, said Kent Bylund, a St. George member of the association. Participants will meet Saturday at the Mountain Meadow's Massacre lower 1999 Gravesite Memorial, where remains of 29 bodies were buried in 1999. A public dinner meeting is planned for Friday night, when three church historians will talk about their forthcoming book about the massacre. About 120 Arkansas emigrants were killed in September 1857, when their California-bound wagon train camped in Mountain Meadow, about 30 miles north of St. George. The five-day siege was first blamed on American Indians, but many historians now believe early settlers of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints carried out the murders. One of them, John D. Lee, was executed 20 years later at what now is the lower 1999 Gravesite Memorial. Most of the massacre survivors -- 17 children younger than 8 -- moved back and stayed in Arkansas, Bylund said. About 40 of their direct and lateral descedents now are members of the Mountain Meadow's Association. As tension still exists between the Utah and Arkansas sides, Bylund said, "We are still trying to repair the damage." Ron Loving, founder of the association, said he was pleased that the LDS church and its members worked with decedents of the Arkansas families to build two memorial monuments, one in the valley and one on top of Mountain Meadow. Loving, 63, whose uncle Capt. Alexander Fancher led the Arkansas emigrant company, said he's ready to step down from its leadership as the association Saturday morning elects new board leaders. Volunteers from the Southern Utah Home Builders Association worked Saturday to build bathrooms at the lower 1999 Gravesite Memorial. The closest bathrooms were 10 miles away in Enterprise, said Bylund, who's a land developer. About 1,000 volunteers spent a year building the Lower Grave Site monument, which is about 50 feet in diameter and 12 feet tall, Bylund said. When they worked on the site, he recalled, "there was little talking." "They'll never feel good about what happened here," Bylund said. The LDS church now owns the Lower Grave Site, Bylund said. Adding to George and Ila Lytle's land donation, Bylund also donated 7.5 acres to the church. Bylund, who owns 120 acres amid Dixie Forest land, said he doesn't want commercial development in the valley. Friday's guest speakers will include Richard E. Turley, Jr., managing director of the LDS Church's Family and Church History Department; Glen M. Leonard, director of the Museum of Church History and Art in Salt Lake City |
By Joe Bauman
Deseret News staff writer
The document looks
crisp, with a blue and purple line setting off the left margin of the white legal paper.
The dark ink handwriting is clear and firm.
Belying the fresh look of the paper is the date: September
1876. The heading is Charge of the Court to the Jury. "Gentlemen of the jury,"
it begins, showing it derives from a period when only men could be jurors.
Documents from John D. Lee's Mountain Meadows Massacre trial are displayed in Salt Lake City. Chuck Wing, Deseret News |
This was one of more than 80 documents relating to the
trial of John D. Lee, the Mountain Meadows Massacre figure, discovered recently. They had
been stashed away in the Beaver County Courthouse in Beaver.
Lee was executed in 1877 for the massacre, which took place
in southwestern Utah. In the 1857 murders, carried out by members of the Iron County
militia and local Indians, about 120 emigrants were killed. Although nine people were
indicted, only Lee was convicted. He was executed in 1877 at the massacre site.
The documents turned up a month ago in a vault at the
courthouse when two members of the Historian's Office of The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints went to Beaver looking for information that could be used in a book they
were researching, said Bob Woodward, acting director of the Utah Division of State
Archives.
The researchers contacted an archivist at Southern Utah
University, Cedar City, about the trove. She called state archivists in Salt Lake City,
and Woodward sent two division employees to Beaver to see the documents.
With cooperation of the Beaver County clerk, at the end of
last week they brought the records to the state archives, located on the State Capitol
campus. There, archivists have been cataloguing them and working on ways to ensure their
preservation.
Eventually, all the papers will be photocopied and some
will be placed on the archivists' Internet site.
Meanwhile, the Division of State Archives placed some of
the documents on display for reporters Tuesday. Spread on tables in the archive building,
they were the focus of TV and newspaper cameras.
Some of the papers are not in such pristine condition.
Woodward described one as falling apart. "We have to be awfully, awfully careful with
these," he said.
In fact, archivists were so careful that they issued
pencils to reporters. They were worried that journalists' pens somehow might mark the
papers.
Unfortunately for historians, little in the documents is
new, although Woodward hopes some unknown tidbit about the past will surface. They
apparently are the Beaver court's copy of records from Lee's federal trial.
When the judge from that trial returned to his home state
of California, "he packed up all the records and took them with him," Woodward
said.
These later were turned over to the H.E. Huntington Library
in San Marino, Calif. Historians have consulted them in detail. Among the historians was
Juanita Brooks, a Utahn who wrote the definitive book about the massacre, "Mountain
Meadows Massacre," published in 1950.
Arlene Schmuland of the state archivists office said she
has skimmed through the documents. Information contained in them "has actually been
published in Brooks' book on the Mountain Meadows Massacre," she said.
"I don't believe anything in this is surprising."
Richard E. Turley Jr., managing director of the LDS Family
and Church History Department, said that even if they do not provide new information, they
do help historians understand the massacre better.
"These materials are not extraordinarily significant,
but they represent pieces in a puzzle that will give us the very best view of the Mountain
Meadows Massacre that we've ever had," Turley said.
The only material in the group that appears new is 1896
correspondence from the family of one of those indicted, militia member John M. Higby. The
family was seeking to have the indictment against Higby dismissed.
Because it was a separate action, that correspondence was
not part of the main set of trial documents that the judge took to California.
The papers' dates range from 1874 to 1896.
They include copies of grand jury subpoenas, the indictment
from 1874, Lee's plea, depositions by church leaders George A. Smith and Brigham Young,
the bond posted by defendant William H. Dame, a letter from Lee to Young, a letter from
Young to the U.S. commissioner of Indian affairs, jury instructions, the judgment and
sentence, an order setting the date of execution and a return on the order of execution.
Woodward said archivists are excited by the find. "We
think there's more," he said. "There may be more caches of material."
Containing new information or not, Woodward said the
documents were exciting for him and his staff. "To find old stuff, highly significant
stuff . . . I think is an archivist's life, this is what you're looking for."
By Carrie A. Moore
Deseret News religion editor
A new documentary
film about the aftermath of the Mountain Meadows Massacre had its genesis in attempts to
heal emotional wounds held over from the 19th century tragedy.
The film debuts tonight at the University of Utah.
In a world where yesterday's conflict is used as an excuse
for today's inhumanity, Brian Patrick found solace in the fact that descendants of both
the victims and the perpetrators of Utah's most infamous murders came together for healing
in 1998.
That's when Patrick of the University of Utah film studies
department decided to document not only a metaphor for healing the world's pervasive
religious and political conflicts, but the tragedy itself. His object was to "get
people talking. It's silence that lets the conflict continue," he said.
He realizes that in Utah, where nearly 70 percent of
residents are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, talk of the
killings that historians say were perpetrated by LDS members is an explosive topic. And he
knows some will assume because he's even broached the subject, he must have
"Mormon-bashing" among his motives.
Yet Patrick maintains that healing and openness about a subject
many have considered taboo are his motivators. The 1857 massacre of some 120 Arkansas
immigrants in southern Utah by LDS settlers there has often been called the darkest moment
in the state's history, particularly considering the fact that Latter-day Saints had
themselves immigrated west to escape mob violence.
The stigma of the murders left a cloud over descendants of
John D. Lee, a Latter-day Saint and the only man ever convicted and executed for the
crimes. At one point in the film, at a reunion for Lee's descendants, a woman describes
"what it used to be like, how they were outcasts and their children were not allowed
to go to school."
Yet they were able to come together with descendants of the
Arkansas Fancher party to form the Mountain Meadows Association "in a spirit of
friendship and forgiveness," Patrick said.
"To me that's such an unusual thing in today's world,
where you have all these warring camps and factions that keep this endless cycle of
vengeance and hate going on. This is different in that it has sort of a positive outcome,
and that's such a hard thing for people to do."
The film examines how difficult it has been for descendants
of the victims to give up their traditional oral history and stories and come together
with Lee's descendants. He credits efforts by President Gordon B. Hinckley of the LDS
Church in 1999 to get people together and help rebuild the monument to the victims.
To Patrick, watching southern Utah residents working
together to rebuild the memorial was "almost like they were atoning for what their
ancestors or friends of their ancestors had done."
He credits the church for its willingness to cooperate in
his efforts. "I had total cooperation from the church in this. I didn't go out asking
to look at secret church records because I'm not writing a book like that. But they really
were quite helpful and . . . took the attitude that we know you're making the film, it's
OK and let's get it out in the open. We're going to cooperate."
LDS historian Glen Leonard helped advise Patrick, and the
church provided footage of the Mountain Meadows monument dedication, which appears in the
film. Gene Sessions of Weber State University and historian Will Bagley also contributed
their expertise.
Though President Hinckley declined to be interviewed for
the film, Patrick said his efforts to "break this cycle of silence and hostility or
paranoia really opened it up tremendously. I think it was a wonderful thing."
Though the parts of the film that recreate the massacre are
painful by any standard, Patrick believes "if you can show people to other people you
can reduce the prejudice in this world, and in this case, I hope to help heal some of
those prejudices."
"Burying the Past: Legacy of the Mountain Meadows
Massacre," will debut tonight (Feb. 21) and Saturday at 7:30 p.m. in the new Utah
Museum of Fine Arts Auditorium at the U. Tickets are $10. Call 585-6961.
By Joe Bauman
Deseret News staff writer
A researcher commissioned by the National Park Service says a controversial lead plate purporting to be inscribed by John D. Lee and supposedly implicating Brigham Young in the Mountain Meadows Massacre dates from before the Civil War.
Note on lead plate, purportedly was written by John D. Lee and implicated Brigham Young in the Mountain Meadows Massacre. Joe Bauman, Deseret News |
But that doesn't mean the writing on the sheet of lead
dates to the same period, said Thomas A. Brunty of Arizona State University, Tempe. A
forger could have used an authentic old plate to inscribe the message.
Earlier, William J. Flynn, president of Affiliated Forensic
Laboratory, Phoenix, debunked the document as a fake that was not in Lee's handwriting. A
documents examiner, Flynn said the note was a "Hoffmannesque" forgery, referring
to infamous Utah forger and murderer Mark Hoffman, who is known to have used authentic old
paper in making his forgeries.
John D. Lee was executed in 1877 for his role in the
massacre, which happened in extreme southwestern Utah in 1857 and claimed the lives of 120
immigrants from Arkansas. Local Indians and Iron County militiamen carried out the attack
on the wagon train, and all the immigrants were killed except 18 young children.
Records show Brigham Young was informed of the attack after
it had begun, and that he sent word not to harm the immigrants. But the trip from and to
southwestern Utah took so long that the massacre was over before the messenger arrived
back at the site.
No evidence ever surfaced to implicate Young or high
officials of the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City
other than the questionable lead note. Written in capitals, the document says the massacre
was "ON ORDERS FROM PRES YOUNG."
The document was discovered in January 2002, when a
National Park Service volunteer was cleaning Lee's Fort at Lee's Ferry, Ariz., 15 miles
down the Colorado River from Glen Canyon Dam. The note was atop 2 inches of animal
droppings and an inch of sand that had accumulated inside the fort; about half an inch of
droppings were on top of it.
Supposedly signed by Lee, it is dated 1872. The fort was
built in 1874.
In a telephone interview, Brunty said the National Park
Service asked him to head a team investigate the metal in an attempt to determine its
origin. When isotopic measurements were carried out at Arizona State and the Washington
State universities and compared with a database maintained by the U.S. Geological Survey,
the lead was identified as coming from a particular ore deposit in the Southeastern
Missouri Mining District.
"Prior to 1860 this was a source of primary lead
production in the region," he said. Later, other lead deposits were more commonly
mined.
The lead sheet was covered with oxidation, and the
inscriptions themselves were oxidized.
"There was heavy oxidation over the inscribed area of
the plate," he said. This material, which can accumulate over time, was a
yellowish-orange color.
Asked if the oxidation indicates the plate was inscribed
long ago, Brunty replied, "If you're checking for a hoax, the oxidation layer gives
you no help, because oxides can be accelerated."
How could a forger do that? "You can treat it with
various acids," he said. "There are a variety of chemical treatments you can use
to produce oxide levels."
The likelihood is remote that someone pulled a lead sheet
at random from a building constructed before 1920, he believes. A forger would have had to
be more careful about selecting lead from the right period.
"They would have to synthetically accrue an oxide
layer on the substrate," Brunty added. "And I'm not saying any of that's
impossible."
If the note was a hoax, he believes it was carefully done.
The note was discovered in January 2002 in Lee's Fort, south of Glen Canyon Dam. Joe Bauman, Deseret News |
Asked if he has an opinion about whether the note is
forged, Brunty replied, "No, I don't."
The National Park Service is involved because Lee's Ferry
is within Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, operated by the Park Service. It
commissioned the study last summer, June through August, Brunty said, and he presented the
Park Service with preliminary findings in late February.
Brunty is a graduate researcher in religious studies at
Arizona State University, carrying out historical and archaeological research. His
previous work included a study concerning the Babylonian captivity of the Jewish people in
ancient times.
Krakauer's book creates LDS flap
By Dennis Lythgoe
Deseret Morning News
Something unusual
happened after I had finished writing my review of Jon Krakauer's book "Under the
Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith." I received a lengthy e-mail from the LDS
Church Media Relations Department containing a long "review" of Krakauer's book
by Richard Turley, managing director of the LDS Family and Church History Department.
An official written reaction from the LDS Church to a
publication criticizing the church may be a first.
Turley has written a laundry list of what he considers
historical errors on Krakauer's part, involving Joseph Smith, the Nauvoo period, the
persecution of early Mormons, the Mountain Meadows Massacre and the Mark Hofmann
forgeries. Turley believes that Krakauer's book "may appeal to gullible
persons," but he suggests "serious readers who want to understand Latter-day
Saints and their history need not waste their time on it."
Turley says Krakauer provides "no scientific
methodology for measuring extremism," asserting that "It seems to be especially
prevalent among those inclined by temperament or upbringing toward religious
pursuits." And he concludes that "Krakauer does violence to Mormon history in
order to tell his story of violent faith."
Evidently, Turley sent his opinions to a number of
different news organizations around the country, because shortly after receiving this
e-mail, an indignant reply from Krakauer himself arrived via e-mail. Krakauer writes that
he is "saddened" that Turley, "a high-ranking church official" who
speaks "for the LDS leadership . . . elected to regard my book in such a reductionist
light."
September 14, 2003
Massacre site draws descendantsBy Nancy Perkins
Deseret Morning News
Salt Lake Tribune, March 3, 2002
Lee Etching: Truth or a Clever Hoax?
BY WILL BAGLEY
The past is full of surprises. Take the discovery that emerged from the dust January at
Lee's Ferry Fort. The Dead Lee Scroll immediately raised the question: Is it a hoax?
If it is, it will probably be exposed as such. History is tough to forge, for
a simple reason: You can't fake the truth. Truth is simple and consistent. Lies and hoaxes
aren't.
Despite Utah TV claims that the lead scroll purportedly containing John D.
Lee's dying testament could "rewrite the history of the infamous Mountain Meadows
Massacre, its contents aren't news.
The scroll's assertion that Lee slaughtered the Fancher train "on orders
from Pres Young thro Geo Smith" is not a new allegation. Anyone claiming such has
never read Lee's potboiler memoir, Mormonism Unveiled; or the Life and Confessions of the
Late Mormon Bishop, John D. Lee.
Lee's book claimed he "acted by the direct order and command of William
H. Dame, and others even higher in authority than Colonel Dame. I have always believed
that General George A. Smith was then visiting Southern Utah to prepare the people for the
work of exterminating Captain Fancher's train of emigrants, and I now believe that he was
sent for that purpose by the direct command of Brigham Young."
The scroll's accusation wasn't even new when Lee's memoir appeared.
Newspapers had published charges that Brigham Young ordered the massacre
in Lee's various confessions shortly after he was executed in March 1877.
Remember, though, Lee was a convicted murderer and Brigham Young is revered
as a prophet of God.
Who are you going to believe?
We have had a deluge of nonsense from experts. Those who say Lee was a good
speller should have looked at his letters and journals before making such a ridiculous
claim.
There are two ways to determine if the scroll is a hoax: historical context
and physical evidence.
Interestingly, there is no way to "prove" it is an authentic
artifact. All experts can do is show that the scroll and its contents are consistent with
the time and place, but that won't prove it is the real thing.
If the scroll is a fake, it is likely that the physical evidence will expose
it. As for its historical context, the scroll's spelling, syntax and sentiments are
vintage John D. Lee.
The block lettering resembles Lee's inscriptions.
Lee was "at the Pahreah" in January 1872. His journal doesn't
indicate he felt he was dying, but he was suffering from "ague" --
and untreated malaria certainly left its victims feeling like they were at death's door.
Lee had been excommunicated from the LDS Church 15 months earlier. He had
taken to heart apostolic warnings to "trust no one." If he wanted to leave a
final message for future generations, it well might have stressed the theme of his
subsequent confessions: "I massacred the Fancher train, but I didn't do it alone or
on my own hook."
The context is so good it is scary. If the scroll is a fake, it is a good one
-- so good that only a few people could have pulled it off.
Reports indicate the scroll was found above a poured concrete floor. If so,
this looks like a hoax. The National Park Service has an excellent record exposing
historical fakes.
Did John D. Lee etch the plate? Did Brigham Young order the massacre ? Until
further revelations, we will just have to wonder.
_________
Utah historian Will Bagley is the author of the forthcoming book, Blood of
the Prophets, which he says will focus on a simple and consistent explanation of what
happened at Mountain Meadows.
Nation's Anthropologists Evalu ... 12/01/2001
by Christopher Smith
Editor's Note: Mountain Meadows, southwest of Cedar City,
is the site of the worst slaughter of white civilians in the history of the frontier West.
Last summer, LDS Church officials and descendants of the victims sought to finally close
the 142-year-old wound. Together they were to build and dedicate a new monument to the 120
Arkansas emigrants who perished in unimaginable violence at the hands of Mormon settlers
and Indian accomplices.
The new memorial stands, but the wound still festers. In constructing the monument,
workers uncovered remains of 29 victims, a vivid and horrific reminder of that September
day in 1857. The story of those bones, and what happened to them last summer, adds another
excruciating chapter to the history of a crime that many of Utah's pioneer descendants can
neither confront nor explain.
MOUNTAIN MEADOWS -- After burying dozens of men, women and children murdered in a bizarre
frontier conspiracy, an Army major ordered his soldiers to erect a rockpile and a carved
wooden cross swearing vengeance on the perpetrators. Brevet Maj. James H. Carleton then
wrote to Congress: "Perhaps the future may be judged by the past."
They were fated words. When a backhoe operator last summer accidentally dug up the bones
buried here in 1859 by Carleton's troops, it set into motion a series of cover-ups,
accusations and recriminations that continue today. It also caused a good-faith effort by
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- to reconcile one of the ugliest
chapters of U.S. history -- to backfire. The Aug. 3, 1999, excavation of the remains of at
least 29 of the 120 emigrants slaughtered in the Mountain Meadows massacre eventually
prompted Gov. Mike Leavitt to intercede. He encouraged state officials to quickly rebury
the remains, even though the basic scientific analysis required by state law was
unfinished.
"It would be unfortunate if this sad moment in our state's history, and the
rather good-spirited attempt to put it behind us, was highlighted by controversy,"
Leavitt wrote in an e-mail message to state antiquities officials shortly before LDS
Church President Gordon B. Hinckley presided over a ceremony at Mountain Meadows.
The widely publicized occasion was to dedicate a newly rebuilt rock cairn monument,
crafted with the same stones Carleton's troops had piled defiantly in 1859. They also were
the same rocks that were torn down from the grave site by one of Leavitt's own ancestors.
Dudley Leavitt, himself a participant in the Sept. 11, 1857, murders, visited the cairn
with LDS prophet Brigham Young a year after Carleton's troops left.
After ridiculing the pledge of vengeance, Young lifted his right arm toward the rock pile
and "in five minutes there wasn't one stone left upon another," Dudley Leavitt
would recall. "He didn't have to tell us what he wanted done. We understood."
The governor's intercession was one of many dramas played out last summer, all serving to
underscore Mountain Meadows' place as the Bermuda Triangle of Utah's historical and
theological landscape. The end result may be another sad chapter in the massacre's legacy
of bitterness, denial and suspicion.
In retracing the latest episode, The Salt Lake Tribune conducted numerous interviews and
researched documents obtained under Utah's Government Records Access and Management Act to
find:
-- Co-sponsors of the monument project -- the LDS Church and the Mountain Meadows
Association -- initially hoped to cover up the excavation, with the MMA demanding any
documentation be "kept out of public view permanently." The president of the
association, Ron Loving, wrote in an Aug. 9 e-mail to the director of the Utah Division of
History: "The families [descended from victims] and the LDS church will work out what
we want to become public knowledge on this accidental finding."
-- The vain effort to hide the truth gave rise to wild conspiracy theories among some
descendants. They suspected Loving was working with the LDS Church to rewrite history by
having church-owned Brigham Young University determine the exhumed victims died of
disease, not murder. "I call it 'sanitizing' a foul deed," Burr Fancher wrote to
other descendants Aug. 24.
-- Utah Division of History Director Max Evans, over the objections of state Archaeologist
Kevin Jones, personally rewrote BYU's state archaeological permit to require immediate
reburial of the bones after receiving the governor's e-mail. Jones raised numerous
questions over the political power play, including a concern it was "eth- nocentric
and racist" to rebury the bones of white emigrants without basic scientific study
when similar American Indian remains are routinely subjected to such analysis before
repatriation. -- News of the excavation triggered written requests to BYU from people
around the nation, seeking to determine if their ancestors were among the recovered
victims. Some offered to submit to DNA testing and desired to reinter the remains in
family burial plots outside of Utah. Although the Utah Attorney General's Office had
advised state officials that "any and all lineal descendants of the Mountain Meadows
massacre would appear to have a voice in determining the disposition of the bodies,"
there is little documented evidence any of the people seeking information about family
members were consulted.
-- Resentment over the discovery and of the remains has caused a schism in the descendant
families, with at least one organized group asking why civil or criminal penalties were
not brought against the LDS Church or the MMA for desecrating the grave. There also is
confusion over who is now in charge of the MMA. While new president Gene Sessions of Weber
State University says Loving was voted out of office in November in the wake of the
controversy, Loving says he's still the boss: "I wasn't voted out of a damn thing. I
was moved up. It was my methods and my way of doing business that got that monument
done."
Other descendants have enlisted the support of Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee in calling for
federal stewardship of the emigrant mass graves scattered in Mountain Meadows, instead of
having the Mormon Church own the land.
"We're doubtful with the church in control this will ever be completely put to
rest," says Scott Fancher, president of the Mountain Meadows Monument Foundation in
Arkansas. "There's a sense among some of our members it's like having Lee Harvey
Oswald in charge of JFK's tomb."
Glen M. Leonard, director of the Museum of Church History and Art and Hinckley's personal
representative in the process, said the church endeavored with the MMA to gather comment
from all descendants through the association's Web page and newsletter.
"While this was not a perfect method for reaching all members of all branches of all
families, it was a practical means for the church and the association to inform most of
them with interest in the grave site restoration project," Leonard says. "We are
sorry if some descendants of the emigrant families feel left out."
Marian Jacklin, an archaeologist with the Dixie National Forest in Cedar City who has
spent years trying to navigate the emotional minefield of Mountain Meadows, says the
events of last summer did not yield the desired consequences.
"This whole episode didn't answer anything," she says. "It just asked more
questions."
And the question that burns in the minds of many angry descendants is: Why was a backhoe
digging at a known, well-marked grave site?
"What we understood in every correspondence, and we thought we had made perfectly
clear to the church, was that under no circumstances would the remains be disturbed,"
says Scott Fancher, whose organization is considering legal action over the excavation.
"Never in my wildest imagination did we expect them to set a backhoe on this grave
and start digging."
Hinckley had personally launched the effort to stabilize the decaying rock cairn --
rebuilt at least 11 times since Carleton's troops placed the stones -- after a visit to
the site in October 1998. The 2.5 acres was deeded to the church in the 1970s after the
landowner reportedly tried in vain to find descendants in Arkansas to accept the donation
of land.
Partnering with the MMA -- a group of emigrant descendants, historians and interested
southwestern Utah residents -- LDS Church architects designed a monument with a thigh-high
stone wall around the old cairn, perched on a steep stream bank.
There are conflicting accounts of whether descendants understood the wall would require
digging a trench around the grave for a concrete footing. Some MMA members, including the
contractor, interpreted the "do not disturb" edict to cover the pre-construction
archaeological investigation. Once the archaeologists said all clear, crews could dig the
footing, they believed.
But Scott Fancher says his branch of the family understood the wall would be
"surface-mounted," in keeping with the church's pledge not to disturb the burial
ground in any way.
Before beginning, the LDS Church had hired BYU's Office of Public Archaeology to conduct a
non-invasive archaeological survey. Using ground-penetrating radar, aerial photos, metal
detectors and hundreds of soil-sample tests to search for signs of bones or artifacts, a
team of professionals scoured the area.
"The archaeological evidence was 100 percent negative," says Shane Baker, the
BYU staff archaeologist who directed the study. "I went to our client, the church,
and said either this is not the spot or every last shred of evidence has been
erased."
There was speculation that bones buried beneath the cairn had been exposed to the elements
and deteriorated. Or, they had been washed down the ravine, the cairn was in the wrong
place or the cairn was directly on top of the bones.
But today, Baker admits the archaeological examination at the location where the bones
were eventually disturbed was not as complete as it was in other areas. The narrow spot
between the cairn and streambank was not probed with radar because the trailer-like unit
could not be towed near the precarious edge. Instead, Baker took soil core samples, using
a bucket auger, which strained against the impacted earth.
He again found nothing. Witnesses would later draw an analogy to a magician thrusting
swords into a box containing an assistant and somehow missing the mark. "Shane came
within inches of the remains and it is amazing that no evidence was determined," says
Kent Bylund of St. George, an association board member and adjacent Mountain Meadows
landowner who served as project contractor. "I sincerely believe everything was done
to ensure the area to be excavated was core sampled and thoroughly examined before
excavation was permitted."
BYU's Baker blames the accidental discovery of bones on the restrictions placed on the
investigation by the LDS Church.
"We were not allowed to do the kind of testing we would do normally, and I was
concerned the whole time we were going to hit bone," he says. "The very fact
they wouldn't let me dig with a shovel and a trowel is why a backhoe found those
bones."
It was on the second or third scoop that more than 30 pounds of human skeletal remains
clattered out of the backhoe bucket as it dug the footing trench on Aug. 3. Bylund looked
on in disbelief, his heart in his throat.
His first inclination was to put the remains back in the ground and swear the backhoe
operator to secrecy. But it was impossible to unring the bell.
"Once they were uncovered, for this new monument to go in, you really had no choice
but to remove them because they were dead center in the middle of the new wall,"
Baker says.
As Baker delicately removed hundreds of pieces of bone from the exposed trench, Loving and
Leonard debated what to do and who to tell.
"My plan was to have them reburied within 48 hours of their discovery," says
Loving. The Arizona man, whose ancestor was a brother of a massacre victim, took charge,
he says, "because the LDS Church considered me as the spokesman for the families in
my capacity as president of the Mountain Meadows Association."
But other descendants more directly related to the victims are outraged the church gave
Loving such authority. "It's offensive to a lot of people to hear Mr. Loving say this
is what the family thinks because we put the church on notice repeatedly that Mr. Loving
does not speak for the family and never has," says Scott Fancher. "We are very
disappointed we did not have a voice in how the remains were treated after they were
disturbed."
Church officials and BYU put Loving in charge and agreed with his plan to rebury within 48
hours. But that plan was foiled on Aug. 5 when Jones, the state archaeologist, informed
them Utah law required a basic scientific analysis when human remains are discovered on
private property. Failure to comply was a felony.
BYU needed a state permit to legally remove the remains. And, by law, such permits require
"the reporting of archaeological information at current standards of scientific
rigor. "Although LDS officials knew the descendants would be uncomfortable with the
required analysis, they agreed it was necessary, says Leonard.
Jones issued BYU's permit Aug. 6, requiring scientists to determine as best possible, age,
sex, race, stature, health condition, cause of death and, because the remains were
commingled, to segregate the largest bones and skulls of each individual for proper
reburial.
Baker immediately began sorting bones with an assistant in his St. George hotel room, then
transferred the remains to BYU's Provo lab and to the University of Utah's forensic
anthropology lab in Salt Lake City, which BYU had subcontracted to do the required
"osteological" analysis.
Throughout, Loving demanded not a word be said to anyone about the discovery. On Aug. 9,
he threatened to sue the state Division of History if Evans did not guarantee in writing
the state would adhere to several conditions of secrecy, including "none of the
contents of the report, in part or in whole, is released to anyone."
Baker of BYU maintains the secrecy was to allow time to notify family members who did not
know of the accidental discovery. "To the credit of the church, they always told me
they wanted everything to be open and aboveboard," he says.
Yet many descendants involved in the monument project didn't learn of the discovery until
the St. George Spectrum newspaper broke the story Aug. 13, 10 days after the backhoe
unearthed the remains. Failing to get answers from state officials whom Loving had told
not to talk, many descendants bitterly wondered what was really going on.
Burr Fancher, who had supported the monument reconstruction, was incensed. In an e-mail
message circulated to several other descendants, he said Loving was a "lackey in the
employ of the Mormon Church and caters to Hinckley's every whim."
The news also triggered a flood of requests to BYU and the state from people wanting to
know if their family roots could be traced to Mountain Meadows. On Aug. 22, the Utah
Attorney General's Office informed state antiquities officials: "Generally, next of
kin is privileged in advancing the burial rights of the deceased absent a compelling state
interest." Loving was telling BYU and state officials the families wanted the remains
buried Sept. 10 in a private ceremony at Mountain Meadows. But new claims of affiliation
complicated matters.
"I went into this blindly and naively assuming the Mountain Meadows Association spoke
as a unified voice on behalf of all the descendants and that turned out to be wrong,"
Baker says today. "On one hand I had descendants demanding I test for DNA, and on the
other I had descendants saying they were going to sue my pants off if I did."
By now it was clear scientists would not be able to complete even the baseline scientific
analysis in time for the scheduled Sept. 10 reburial ceremony. After a tense meeting with
Loving, Jones agreed to a compromise. The examination and segregation of the "long
bones" would probably be finished by Sept. 10, and those bones would be placed in the
ground at the ceremony. The skulls would require more time, but once that analysis was
complete, the cranial material would then be reburied.
Loving says he was "forced to accept" the compromise, but immediately launched
an end run. He contacted Dixie Leavitt, the governor's father and a former state senator
who played a leading role in the 1990 dedication of another monument overlooking the
killing field. Loving warned Dixie Leavitt that unless all the bones were reburied on
Sept. 10, there would be an uproar during Hinckley's dedication ceremony.
"I don't recall exactly what I said, but 'disturbance' sounds like a pretty good
word," Loving says today.
"I received a call today from my Father (sic) who has been rather involved with the
people from Arkansas who are planning to hold a burial and memorial service," Gov.
Leavitt wrote in a Sept. 6 e-mail to Wilson Martin, the division's director of cultural
preservation and Jones' boss. "Apparently, the State Archaeologist is insisting that
some portion of the remains be held from the burial for study. It is apparently causing a
lot of angst amongst the family members." Gov. Leavitt responded to The Tribune's
questions about his intercession through his press secretary, Vicki Varela. She said the
governor "did not feel that it was appropriate for the bones to be dissected and
studied in a manner that would prolong the discomfort." Leavitt did not speak to any
descendants or family members "other than being notified by his father that there was
some risk a respectful event may turn into something of a discomfort for the
participants," said Varela. Asked if Leavitt understood there was a state law
requiring such study, Varela answered: "I don't think he was knowledgeable of all the
details." She said as the CEO of the state, the governor believed "we should
find a way to create minimal interference."
Church History Museum director Leonard says it was the decision of the MMA, not the
church, to seek an executive exception to the scientific study requirements. "We were
aware of the political implications and the emotional implications of this issue,"
says Leonard. "In hindsight, it is fair to say that the governor's directive to bury
those remains not completely analyzed was a humane response to conflicting needs."
Evans drew up a new state antiquities permit for BYU, removing the previous requirement of
analysis "in toto" and replacing it with a new requirement that BYU "shall
reinter, by Sept. 10, 1999, all human remains into the prepared burial vaults, near the
place of discovery." Jones, in a memo to the division files Sept. 9, noted his
professional objections.
"To rebury the remains at this point would constitute, in the opinion of the
Antiquities Section, a violation of professional, scientific and ethical
responsibilities," Jones wrote. "It also might indeed be seen as demonstrating
disrespect for the victims, to bury them once again with bones of many individuals mixed
and jumbled, as they were originally disrespectfully interred, in a mass grave of murder
victims."But Evans also included a notation on the new permit that could lead to
another re-opening of the massacre grave."Since the remains have been interred in a
concrete vault, it is possible that further evaluation can take place if all the parties
agree, or if a court so orders at some future date," Evans says today. "This is
a matter for the family members and the landowner to address, not one the Division of
State History expects to be involved in." Early on the morning of Sept. 10, Baker
picked up the remains from the U. and drove them to a St. George mortuary. There, the
unsegregated bones and skulls of at least 29 people were placed inside four wooden
ossuaries and later reburied at the rebuilt monument.
On Sept. 29, Baker sent letters of thanks to Division of History officials explaining how
many family members at the memorial service appreciated that all the remains were
reinterred. "This certainly represents the positive side of Governor Leavitt's action
to intercede on the reburial issue," he wrote. At the same time, Baker said he was
professionally conflicted by the precedent set with the political decisions. "The
state and its people benefited from this absolutely unique opportunity to, in some small
way, try and make amends for the tragic events that transpired there so long ago,"
Baker wrote in a letter to Jones. "That certainly counts for something. I just hope
that some of the other consequences we were all concerned about in connection with the
action to rebury do not come back to cause us grief in the future." Again, those
would prove fateful words.
The Salt Lake Tribune", March 13, 2000
by Christopher Smith
Like a grim jigsaw puzzle, University of Utah forensic
anthropologist Shannon Novak has pieced together the results of crime and warfare,
meticulously re-assembling the bones of people who met violent ends. Her expertise has
taken her to the mass graves of Croatia, where she joined a team of other experts in
gathering evidence for prosecution of Serbian war crimes. She recently deciphered the
bones of soldiers found on the bloodiest battlefield of Britain's Wars of Roses in 1461,
questioning the romantic views of chivalry in medieval battle. The situations are
frequently tense, the work is tedious and the results are never pretty. But always, the
truth ends up in sharper focus.
"Typically with history, the winning side writes the story," Novak says..
"This is giving the dead a chance to speak."
She took that same sense of purpose into a Utah polemic that began last summer. While The
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was working to rebuild a monument to victims
of the 1857 Mountain Meadows massacre, the skeletal remains of at least 29 slain emigrants
were accidentally dug up by a church contractor on Aug. 3. That scientists were required
to study the bones of the massacre victims before they could be returned to their
resting-place became the flash point in a five-week struggle that ended with a private
reburial ceremony Sept. 10. The studies, normally required by state law of all
accidentally discovered human remains, were terminated prematurely after Gov. Mike Leavitt
personally intervened.In a message to state antiquities officials, Leavitt wrote that he
did not want controversy to highlight "this sad moment in our state's history and the
rather good-spirited attempt to put it behind us."
Novak, along with a handful of other scientists, archaeologists and state antiquities
officials, got caught in a political tug-of-war that pitted the need for scientific
inquiry against the desire to respect the wishes of some descendants, who viewed the
analysis as adding insult to injury. "Arkansas people have two virtues -- caring for
the sick and respecting the dead," Burr Fancher, a direct descendant of the massacre
victims, wrote Aug. 24 to Brigham Young University's Office of Public Archaeology, which
subcontracted with Novak to conduct the forensic analysis. "One of our fundamental
beliefs has been grossly violated so that a few people could play with bones and for what
reason? Everyone knows who was buried there and every serious student of history knows why
it happened."
Yet at the same time, there is little widespread public knowledge of a crime of civil
terrorism that pales in modern U.S. history only to the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing. The
slaughter of an estimated 120 white civilians by a cabal of Mormon zealots and Indians is
never mentioned in school history textbooks and is not even listed as a "point of
interest" on Utah's official highway map. Until recent additions, the interpretive
signs at Mountain Meadows were so vague as to how the Arkansas emigrants died that they
became a source of national ridicule. "All across the United States, when the
dominant group has committed wicked deeds, historical markers either omit the acts or
write of them in the passive voice," James W. Loewen writes in his new book, Lies
Across America, which devotes a chapter to Mountain Meadows. "Thus, the landscape
does what it can to help the dominant stay dominant and the rest of us stay ignorant about
who actually did what in American history."
When the serene landscape at Mountain Meadows suddenly yielded hard evidence of one of the
most gruesome crimes of western settlement, debate erupted over the need to delve
further."It is not important we know exactly how these people were murdered; we
already know they were killed," says Weber State University history professor Gene
Sessions, a Mountain Meadows scholar who serves as the president of the Mountain Meadows
Association. "There's nothing those bones could show us that we don't already know
from the documentary evidence."
But others disagree. "Those bones could tell the story and this was their one
opportunity," says Marian Jacklin, a U.S. Forest Service archaeologist in Cedar City.
"I have worked with many of these descedants for years and understand their feelings.
But as a scientist, I would allow my own mother's bones to be studied in a respectful way
if it would benefit medicine or history."
Kevin Jones, state archaeologist, was overruled in his efforts to adhere to the state law
requiring a basic analysis of the remains. "The truth has never been fully told by
anyone and there's plenty of information we could have learned here," he says.
"We know they were murdered, but we don't know the details. And none of these people
today can speak for every one of those people buried there."
Before the bones were placed back into the earth in the wake of the abrupt change in a
state antiquities permit, they had started to reveal their secrets. In a 30-hour,
round-the-clock forensic marathon, Novak and her students at the U. managed to reassemble
several of the skulls before BYU officials arrived early on the morning of Sept. 10 to
take the bones away.
Her results, which are still being compiled for future publication in a scientific
journal, confirm much of the documentary record. But they also provide chilling new
evidence that contradicts some conventional beliefs about what happened during the
massacre.
For instance, written accounts generally claim the women and older children were beaten or
bludgeoned to death by Indians using crude weapons, while Mormon militiamen killed adult
males by shooting them in the back of the head. However, Novak's partial reconstruction of
approximately 20 different skulls of Mountain Meadows victims show:
-- At least five adults had gunshot exit wounds in the posterior area of the cranium -- a
clear indication some were shot while facing their killers.. One victim's skull displays a
close-range bullet entrance wound to the forehead;
-- Women also were shot in the head at close range. A palate of a female victim exhibits
possible evidence of gunshot trauma to the face, based on a preliminary examination of
broken teeth;
-- At least one youngster, believed to be about 10 to 12 years old, was killed by a
gunshot to the top of the head.
Other findings by Novak from the commingled partial remains of at least 29 individuals --
a count based on the number of right femurs in the hundreds of pieces of bone recovered
from the gravesite -- back up the historical record;
-- Five skulls with gunshot entrance wounds in the back of the cranium have no
"beveling," or flaking of bone, on the exterior of the skull. This indicates the
victims were executed with the gun barrel pointing directly into the head, not at an
angle, and at very close range;
-- Two young adults and three children -- one believed to be about 3 years old judging by
tooth development -- were killed by blunt-force trauma to the head. Although written
records recount that children under the age of 8 were spared, historians believe some
babes-in-arms were murdered along with their mothers;
-- Virtually all of the "post-cranial" (from the head down) bones displayed
extensive carnivore damage, confirming written accounts that bodies were left on the
killing field to be gnawed by wolves and coyotes.
Assisted by graduate student Derinna Kopp and other U. Department of Anthropology
volunteers, Novak's team took photographs, made measurements, wrote notes and drew
diagrams of the bones, all part of the standard data collection required by law. "I
treated this as if it were a recent homicide, conducting the analysis scientifically but
with great respect," says Novak. "I'm always extremely conservative in my
conclusions. I will only present what I can verify in a court of law."
Beyond the cause of death, Novak was able to discern something about the constitution of
the emigrants."These were big, strong, robust men, very heavy boned," she says.
"We found tobacco staining on teeth, which is helpful in indicating males, and lots
of cavities, indicating they had a diet heavy on carbohydrates." There came a point
in the reconstruction where the disparate pieces of bones slowly began to morph into
individuals, each with distinct characteristics. One victim had broken an arm and clavicle
that had healed improperly. One male had likely been in a brawl that left a healed blunt
wound on the back of his head. One youngster's remains all had a distinctive reddish tint;
as scientists inventoried the bones they would note another part of "red boy."
"We were at the stage when we were distinguishing them as people, where you were
getting to know each one," says Novak. "We could have started to match people
up. You would never have gotten complete individuals, but given a little more time, we
could have done a lot more." But time was up. Novak had concentrated her initial work
on the "long bones," as part of an agreement reached between the Division of
History, Mountain Meadows Association and Brigham Young University. Those post-cranial
remains would be re-interred during a Sept. 10 memorial. Because the reconstruction of the
skulls would not be finished by then, the agreement allowed Novak until spring -- about
six months -- to do the studies required by state law.
It was late on Sept. 8 that she learned that Division of History Director Max Evans had
overruled Jones and re-wrote BYU's antiquities permit, changing the standard requirement
for analysis "in toto" to require reburial of all remains on Sept. 10. When BYU
asked to pick up the cranial bones on Sept. 9, Novak deferred, saying she had until the
next day according to the amended permit.
"It was the only stand I could make because they had changed the rules in the middle
of the process with no notice whatsoever," she says. "We worked through the
night to get as much done as we could. This data had to be gathered."
BYU archaeologist Shane Baker picked up the remains from Novak early on the morning of
Sept. 10, drove them to a St. George mortuary where they were placed in four small wooden
ossuaries and then reburied later that day at the newly finished monument.
The dead would say no more. Their remains should never have been queried in the first
place, says Weber State historian Sessions. "This idea of Shannon Novak needing six
months to mess around with the cranial stuff, well, I know something about that science
and that's a fraud," says the Mountain Meadows Association president, who adds he
consulted his WSU colleagues about the time needed for such studies. "I really
disagree with anyone who says we should have kept the bones out of the ground longer to
determine what happened at Mountain Meadows. The documentary evidence is overwhelming.
Whether or not little kids were shot in the head or mashed with rocks makes no difference.
They were killed."
But other historians, searching for more information about an event cloaked in secrecy for
generations, see value in the empirical evidence that forensic anthropology can offer. On
Feb. 15, BYU's Baker made an informal presentation of his own photographs and research on
the Mountain Meadows remains to the Westerners, an exclusive group of professional and
amateur historians who meet monthly. As Baker flashed color slides of the bones on the
screen, the men were visibly moved.
"I've dealt with this awful tale on a daily basis for five years, but I found seeing
the photos of the remains of the victims profoundly disturbing," says Will Bagley,
whose forthcoming book on the massacre, Blood of the Prophets, won the Utah Arts Council
publication prize. "It drove home the horror."
But would it convince those who still believe the killing was done solely by Indians, or
was part of an anti-Mormon conspiracy or the work of a single, renegade apostate? "My
own father believed John D. Lee was the one behind it all and if you think you were going
to convince him any differently with empirical proof, forget it," says David Bigler,
author of Forgotten Kingdom and former member of the Utah Board of State History.
"People want to have the truth, they want it with a capital T and they don't like to
have people upset that truth. True believers don't want to think the truth has
changed." And according to the leader of the modern Mormon church, the truth has
already been told about Mountain Meadows.
by Christopher Smith
MOUNTAIN MEADOWS -- As LDS Church President Gordon B.
Hinckley delivered words of reconciliation at the Sept. 11, 1999, dedication of a rebuilt
monument to emigrants slaughtered by Mormon militiamen and their Indian allies 142 years
earlier, he added a legal disclaimer.
"That which we have done here must never be construed as an acknowledgment of the
part of the church of any complicity in the occurrences of that fateful day,"
Hinckley said. The line was inserted into his speech on the advice of attorneys for the
Corporation of the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The statement, seemingly out of sync with Hinckley's desire to bring healing to nearly 150
years of bitterness, caused some in attendance to wonder if any progress had really been
made at all. If the Mormon Church leadership of 1857 was not at least partially to blame
for an estimated 120 people slain at Mountain Meadows, then whom should history hold
responsible?
"Well, I would place blame on the local people," Hinckley told The Salt Lake
Tribune in a subsequent interview Feb. 23. "I've never thought for one minute -- and
I've read the history of that tragic episode -- that Brigham Young had anything to do with
it. It was a local decision and it was tragic.. We can't understand it in this time."
For families of the slain emigrants and descendants of LDS pioneer John D. Lee -- the one
participant convicted and executed for the crime -- Hinckley's delineation of the church's
position on Mountain Meadows compounded many of the misgivings they had about the entire
chain of events during the summer.
First, a church contractor's backhoe accidentally exhumed the bones of at least 29 victims
Aug. 3 while digging at the grave, even though the church had pledged not to disturb the
ground. That was followed by a failed attempt at secrecy, leading to wild speculation and
a schism among descendants.
There was a heated debate over whether a state law requiring forensic analysis of the
bones should be obeyed, with Gov. Mike Leavitt finally intervening to prematurely
terminate the study and ensure that all bones be reburied before the dedication. New
forensic anthropology studies done on the bones before reinterment provided the first
graphic evidence of the brutality, and a new, unwanted reminder of the horror.
Now, those who had hoped to hear some sort of apology on behalf of the modern Mormon
Church from the man who had done more than any of his predecessors to salve the wounds,
were left feeling they had come up short. "What we've felt would put this resentment
to rest would be an official apology from the church," says Scott Fancher of the
Mountain Meadows Monument Foundation in Arkansas, a group of direct descendants of the
victims. "Not an admission of guilt, but an acknowledgement of neglect and of
intentional obscuring of the truth."
Others closely involved in Hinckley's participation in the new monument project believe
the LDS Church went as far as it's ever going to go in addressing the uncomfortable
details of the massacre. "You're not going to get an apology for several reasons, one
of which is that as soon as you say you're sorry, here come the wrongful-death
lawsuits," says Gene Sessions, president of the Mountain Meadows Association, the
organization that partnered with Hinckley on the project. "If President Hinckley ever
contemplated he was going to open this can of worms he never would have bothered to do
this, because it asks embarrassing questions. It raises the old question of whether
Brigham Young ordered the massacre and whether Mormons do terrible things because they
think their leaders want them to do terrible things."
Noted Mormon writer Levi Peterson has tried to explain the difficulty that Mormons and
their church face in confronting the atrocity of Mountain Meadows. "If good Mormons
committed the massacre, if prayerful leaders ordered it, if apostles and a prophet knew
about it and later sacrificed John D. Lee, then the sainthood of even the modern church
seems tainted," he has written.. "Where is the moral superiority of Mormonism,
where is the assurance that God has made Mormons his new chosen people?"
Mormons are certainly not alone in trying to square the shedding of innocent blood in the
name of God. In the 13th century, the Roman Catholic Church established courts of the
Spanish Inquisition, gaining confessions of heresy through torture and punishment by
death. In 1692, Puritans in Massachusetts executed 20 people for allegedly practicing
witchcraft. But acknowledging any complicity in Mountain Meadows' macabre past is
fundamentally problematic for the modern church.
"The massacre has left the Mormon Church on the horns of a dilemma," says Utah
historian Will Bagley, author of a forthcoming book on Mountain Meadows.. "It can't
acknowledge its historic involvement in a mass murder, and if it can't accept its
accountability, it can't repent."
The massacre also shows a darker side to Mormonism's proud pioneer heritage, an element
used today to shape the faith's worldwide image. "The problem is that Mormons then
were not simply old-fashioned versions of Mormons today," says historian David
Bigler, author of Forgotten Kingdom. "Then, they were very zealous believers; it was
a faith that put great emphasis on the Old Testament and the Blood of Israel."
Brigham Young's theocratic rule of the Utah Territory -- he wore the hats of governor,
federal Indian agent and LDS prophet -- was at its zenith in 1857 when the mass murders at
Mountain Meadows occurred. Reformation of the LDS Church was in full swing, with members'
loyalty challenged by church leaders. Young taught that in a complete theocracy, God
required the spilling of a sinner's blood on the ground to properly atone for grievous
sins. It was the Mormon doctrine of "blood atonement." The modern church
contends blood atonement was mainly a "rhetorical device" used by Young and
other leaders to teach Saints the wages of sin. Yet some scholars see its influence even
today, pointing to such signs as Utah being the only state left in the nation that allows
execution by firing squad. There is widespread disagreement, but some historians have
concluded that blood atonement is central to understanding why faithful Mormons would
conspire to commit mass murder.
Alternate explanations have included speculation that
Indians threatened to prey on local inhabitants if Mormon settlers did not help them raid
emigrant wagon trains. There also are the oft-repeated "evil emigrant" stories,
accounts that the Arkansas wagon train antagonized Mormon settlers with epithets, poisoned
watering holes that resulted in the deaths of Mormon children and Indians, and boastful
claims of one contingent called the "Missouri Wildcats" that they were with the
Illinois mob that killed LDS founder Joseph Smith.
Retold as fact in many accounts and in the National Register of Historic Places nomination
for Mountain Meadows, the veracity of those stories has been called into question since
the earliest investigations of the massacre. Historian Juanita Brooks, in her seminal
book, The Mountain Meadows Massacre, believed the emigrants met their doom in part through
their own provocative behavior and because they came from the Arkansas county adjacent to
the county where beloved LDS Apostle Parley P. Pratt had recently been murdered.
In his forthcoming Blood of the Prophets, Bagley points to new evidence that seems to
blunt this one point of Brooks' landmark research. "[Noted historian] Dale Morgan
alerted Brooks in 1941 to the likelihood that the emigrant atrocity stories had been 'set
afloat by Mormons to further their alibi of the massacre's having been perpetrated by
Indians,' " Bagley writes, quoting from Morgan's letter to Brooks. "Even then it
was well-established that the Fancher party came from Arkansas, and Morgan had never been
satisfied with tales that the company included a large contingent of maniacal
Missourians." That a wagon train mainly of women and children would be slaughtered
for belligerence and taunting seems too farfetched to many historians today.
"When you have 50 to perhaps more than 70 men participate in an event like this, you
can't just say they got upset," says Bigler, a Utah native. "We have to believe
they did not want to do what they did any more than you or I would. We have to recognize
they thought what they were doing is what authority required of them. The only question to
be resolved is did that authority reach all the way to Salt Lake City?"
Fifty years ago, when Brooks broached the question of Young's role and blood atonement in
her book, she was labeled an apostate by some and "one of the Lord's lie
detectors" by others, such as the late philanthropist O.C. Tanner. Brooks noted her
own LDS temple endowment blessing was to "avenge the blood of the prophet," a
reference to Smith's 1844 murder. References to vengeance on behalf of slain church
leaders eventually were removed from endowment ceremonies. The journals kept by Mormon
pioneers, who considered maintaining diaries a religious duty, continue to shed more light
on the questions Brooks raised.. Among key developments in the historical record:
-- The Sept. 1, 1857, journal of Young's Indian interpreter, Dimick Huntington, recounts
Young's negotiations with the Paiute Indians, who were offered a gift of the emigrant
wagon train's cattle. When Paiute leaders noted Young had told them not to steal,
Huntington translated Young's reply: "So I have, but now they have come to fight us
and you, for when they kill us they will kill you."
-- Young, as superintendent of Indian Affairs in the Utah Territory, ordered the
distribution of more than $3,500 in goods to the natives "near Mountain Meadows"
less than three weeks after the massacre.
-- The patriarchal blessing given to the commander of the Mormon militia in Beaver, Iron
and Washington counties called on Col. William Dame to "act at the head of a portion
of thy brethren and of the Lamanites [Indians] in the redemption of Zion and the avenging
of the blood of the prophets upon them that dwell on the earth."
There is also additional support for Brooks' original premise: That Young wanted to stage
a violent incident to demonstrate to the U.S. government -- which was taking up arms
against his theocracy -- that he could persuade the Indians to interrupt travel over the
important overland trails, thwarting all emigration. She was the first to note a
frequently censored phrase from Young's Aug. 4, 1857, letter to Mormon "Indian
missionary" Jacob Hamblin to obtain the tribe's trust, "for they must learn that
they have either got to help us or the United States will kill us both." Hinckley has
declared, "Let the book of the past be closed" at Mountain Meadows and believes
it is pointless to continually speculate on why it happened."None of us can place
ourselves in the moccasins of those who lived there at the time," he said in an
interview. "The feelings that were aroused, somehow, that I cannot understand. But it
occurred. Now, we're trying to do something that we can to honorably and reverently and
respectfully remember those who lost their lives there." Sessions, the Weber State
University historian who serves as president of the Mountain Meadows Association, says
Hinckley's efforts at reconciliation this past summer "may be the most significant
event to happen in Mountain Meadows since John D. Lee was executed." Attitudes are
changing, he says, pointing to the church's acceptance of interpretive signs at the
meadows that better explain who did the killing. As to who ultimately is to blame, perhaps
that's not for anyone to judge. "Somebody made a terrible decision that this has got
to be done," says Sessions. "I don't justify it in any way. But I do believe it
would have taken more guts to stay home in Cedar City on those days in 1857 than it would
to go out there to the meadows and take part. "You couldn't stay away. You would have
been out there killing people."
----------
Tribune reporter Peggy Fletcher Stack contributed to this story.
AMERICAN MASSACRE
The Tragedy at Mountain
Meadows, September 1857.
By Sally Denton.
Illustrated. 306 pp. New York:
Alfred A. Knopf. $26.95.
IN October 1857, California newspapers began to recount terrible rumors, followed by eyewitness reports from newly arrived wagon-train emigrants. While following a lightly trodden path across the southern Utah Territory, in a remote and verdant mountain valley, travelers found large piles of bodies, men separated from women and children, many shot but more bludgeoned and with throats cut, all their possessions from their clothing to their wagons and livestock plundered. Packs of wolves feasted on the remains. The Eastern press soon picked up the story of what would be called the Mountain Meadows Massacre -- some 140 victims, most of them members of the California-bound Baker-Fancher party from Arkansas. Newspapers quickly accused Mormon settlers as the perpetrators. From his heavily guarded keep in Salt Lake City, Brigham Young, the fiery leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, denounced the charges as a ''prolonged howl of base slander'' meant to ''excite to a frenzy a spirit for our extermination.''
As Sally Denton amply shows in ''American Massacre'' -- an excellent introduction to one of the most controversial events in Western American history, one that still stirs strong passions today -- the West already was possessed by frenzy that summer and autumn of 1857. The Mormon enclave in the Salt Lake Valley had grown appreciably since Young had led his faithful there in 1847, after a bitter trek from Council Bluffs, Iowa, which had in turn been preceded by a desperate retreat from the Mormon enclave at Nauvoo, Ill., after furious clashes with non-Mormons in Illinois and Missouri, and the violent death of the Mormons' visionary founder, Joseph Smith, in 1844. In remote Utah the Mormons would be free to practice their religion -- especially its most controversial practice, polygamy. Every pulpit and soapbox in the East had, at one time or another, vibrated against the scourge of Mormonism. Young's haughty revelation-tinged isolationism was creeping close to secessionism by the late 1850's, when Southern states were threatening to leave the Union.
Thousands of emigrants were crossing what was still called the Great American Desert for California, off to homestead or hoping to strike it rich in the goldfields. The passage through the Utah Territory, while geographically and socially unpleasant, did not seem mortally risky. Mormons feared and distrusted outsiders and were inclined to hustle them on, but were usually willing to sell them supplies at inflated prices; in previous years, in quieter political climates, wagon trains like the Baker-Fancher party would have crossed Utah unimpeded.
Not so in 1857. Young was struggling to keep his colonists in line, as many began to chafe under strict theocracy and harsh, isolated living conditions. Defectors were hunted down and killed. Edicts, revelations and political proclamations poured out of Brigham Young, not only threatening Mormon apostates with a revived doctrine called ''blood atonement'' -- purifying sinners and enemies by death -- but menacing non-Mormons, too. Young, also territorial governor, greeted the inauguration of President James Buchanan in March 1857 by denouncing federal authority over the people of Utah. Buchanan, besieged by Southern secessionists, chose to deal with the simpler and more politically popular battle in Utah. He appointed a raft of federal officials, from governor on down, and directed about 2,500 soldiers to escort the new government into Salt Lake City and see that order was restored.
Utah seemed almost red hot, fanned by news that an eminent Mormon ''prophet and seer,'' Parley Pratt, had been killed -- in Arkansas. Pratt had recently taken his 12th wife though she was already married to a non-Mormon. He spirited her to Utah, and then they went south to kidnap her children. In the ensuing chase Pratt was stabbed and shot by the enraged husband. The news of his tawdry death was molded by Young into a tale of religious persecution and murder. Knowing that federal troops approached, Young sent messages to his outposts as far away as California, recalling Mormon colonists for the anticipated war in Utah. During a large convocation of the faithful in the mountains east of Salt Lake City, he declared the independence of the Utah Territory from the United States. ''We are invaded by a hostile force who are evidently assailing us to accomplish our overthrow and destruction,'' Young proclaimed a short time later. He ordered the faithful not to sell a single kernel of grain to any non-Mormon.
Enter the heedless Baker-Fancher wagon train. It was especially prosperous -- 40 solid, well-equipped wagons, ostentatious carriages, carrying precious household belongings and gold and currency worth at least $100,000, along with herds of horses, dairy cows, beef steers and even exceptional longhorn cattle. Members who had previously crossed Utah were shocked by the hostile reception they received in Salt Lake City. They needed to feed their livestock and resupply for the long trek ahead, but they found no help in the Utah capital.
They headed south and west on Aug. 5, 1857, hoping the Mormons ahead would be more hospitable. They were spurned by one community after another during the next month, with rumors and lies stirring like dust: supposedly they blasphemed by insulting Mormons, especially Young; among the travelers were the killers of Parley Pratt. Several Mormon apostates fleeing the ''Avenging Angels'' seem to have joined the wagon train to get out of Utah, which would have only made it worse for those sheltering them.
The most persistent rumor was that the Arkansans quarreled with local Paiute tribal people and repaid them by poisoning springs and carcasses of oxen, which killed several Indians. This story, attributing the Mountain Meadows Massacre to Indians, though full of holes, has been durable enough to be repeated in recent general histories. Brigham Young himself fed this line out to the world -- the emigrants were killed by Indians -- but Denton demolishes the tale. What is eminently clear from the evidence, she says, is that high officials had already decided that the Arkansans were going to be ''used up'' -- killed.
Having been urged by locals to take the Mountain Meadows route, the Arkansans camped up in the lush, tree-shaded grassland the first week of September. An ambush from the cover of surrounding hills turned into a four-day battle and siege. The travelers, thinking their attackers were Indians and sustaining heavy losses, including small children who were deliberately killed by snipers, held them off but suffered from lack of water. The ambushing force grew over several days until most of the actual Indians present departed with stolen cattle.
Then, on Sept. 11, a white man appeared under a flag of truce, telling the wagon train party he was the local Indian agent, and brokered an agreement in which the wagon train gave up its weapons to be escorted to safety. The man was John D. Lee, a member of the secret brute squad, the Danites, and an adopted son of Brigham Young. With their weapons gone, assuming that they were only being robbed, the Arkansans were marched and separated into groups, and, one by one, shot and clubbed down, their throats cut. The apostates with them were summarily ''blood atoned.''
The only eyewitness accounts of Mountain Meadows come from some of the murderers and from survivors -- all of whom were under the age of 7 at the time, deliberately spared by the assailants as having ''innocent blood.'' ''My father was killed by Indians,'' the son of the wagonmaster, Alexander Fancher, would say two years later. ''When they washed their faces they were white men.'' Joining Lee in the ambush and slaughter were at least 100 Mormon men -- civilians, military men and local religious leaders.
Not surprisingly, justice was elusive in Utah. All the Mountain Meadows killers swore a solemn oath of secrecy. The story told in the southern towns as well as in Salt Lake City blamed the Paiutes and the victims. The church appointed Lee to write the official account. In autumn 1857, as the political situation heated up (a Mormon paramilitary unit raided and burned Fort Bridger and the approaching federal army's winter supplies), Mormons in the southern communities began openly sporting clothing, jewelry and other possessions of the massacre victims, appropriating their wagons and carriages and corralling their branded livestock. Lee actually submitted a bill to the federal government for providing cattle and supplies to local Indians, all of it plunder.
With the federals wintering over (and starving) near the Bridger ruins, a desperate President Buchanan agreed in early 1858 that in return for restored peace and order, he would give amnesty for all federal offenses from treason to murder. The Mountain Meadows orphans were rounded up from the homes of their parents' murderers and returned to Arkansas. A promised Mormon internal investigation predictably blamed the Indians. When a newly appointed federal judge arrived in Utah, though, he easily found enough evidence to charge church members with mass murder and robbery, despite flagrant local efforts to derail his work. He issued bench warrants for 38 people, most notably Lee. A trial -- and inclinations to arrest Young as an accessory before the fact -- hit a stone wall. Buchanan, politically besieged by the brewing Civil War, quashed the judge's campaign and ordered Army officers to withdraw. The judge was later exiled to northern Nevada.
The Utah cover-up continued, as Denton writes, until the appearance of a series of anonymous open letters to Young in Utah newspapers. They were written with intimate knowledge of the massacre and cover-up, and as indignation again mounted, Young discreetly sent Lee to hide out in Arizona. Then, finally, one of the murderers stepped forward -- a Mormon bishop, Philip Klingensmith. His testimony hit the Eastern newspapers in September 1872, and in 1874 an outraged Congress reasserted federal jurisdiction over crimes in Utah. A grand jury indicted nine people, including Lee.
He would be the only man tried. Lee steadfastly maintained his innocence and also, strongly, Young's. A monthlong trial resulted in a hung jury, to general local celebration, but a second trial was quickly ordered. Before that occurred in September 1876, a new federal attorney recognized that he would never obtain a conviction without Young's aid. He struck a deal: in return for receiving witnesses and documents to guarantee Lee's conviction, the prosecutor would drop all efforts against other Mormon conspirators and make it plain that Young and the church were not on trial.
Finally Lee realized that he was being made the scapegoat when Mormon Church attorneys and resources were pulled out before the second trial began. His end came speedily. The trial (with an all-Mormon jury) began on Sept. 11, 1876, the 19th anniversary of the massacre, and made it seem that Lee was the only murderer present at Mountain Meadows. Mixing true testimony with false, a parade of witnesses wove a noose around Lee's neck; he collapsed at one point and seemed resigned to death. His lawyers called no witnesses. On Sept. 20 the jury convicted him of first-degree murder in less than four hours. On Oct. 10 he was sentenced to die, but appeals delayed execution until the following spring. He used the interim to write four contradictory ''confessions,'' which continued to blame the Paiutes and exonerate his beloved church and its fearless leader, and led future historians astray for generations. Privately, he railed against Young for the betrayal, but Lee went to his death by firing squad on March 23, 1877.
Young died five months later, and the church began its long growth away from the radical tenets that had made it so hated and feared in the 19th century. But it doggedly maintained into the 1990's that Paiutes were to blame for Mountain Meadows.
''American Massacre'' moves briskly, although in its first third it is marred by clumsy quotations. The book is strongly dependent on secondary sources, most significantly Will Bagley's ''Blood of the Prophets.'' (The pioneer Utah historian Juanita Brooks published the first important study of the incident, ''The Mountain Meadows Massacre,'' in 1962.) Bagley may be the superior scholar -- Denton's book is about half the length, with minimal endnotes -- but as writers they are evenly matched; when Denton, a reporter for newspapers and television, hits her stride the subject takes over and her book becomes gripping. She also adds valuable material to the historical record; she has found diary extracts apparently overlooked by the others, and has interviewed a number of descendants whose oral family traditions shed new light on the subject.
Mountain Meadows seems destined to live on. When Bagley's
book was published in September 2002, the Mormon Church was quick to complain about
jumping to conclusions with circumstantial evidence. Ronald W. Walker, a history professor
at Brigham Young University, has argued that there was no persuasive evidence that Brigham
Young orchestrated Mountain Meadows or that John D. Lee was thrown to the wolves as a part
of a deal for Utah statehood. Walker has said that the church is cooperating fully with
him and two co-authors, Richard E. Turley Jr. and Glen M. Leonard, in an ''official''
Mountain Meadows history, to be published in 2004, that would ''shed light and
understanding on the event.''
David Haward Bain is the author of ''Empire Express: Building the First Transcontinental Railroad.''
Published: 09 - 07 - 2003 , Late Edition - Final , Section 7 , Column 1 , Page 14
Mountain Meadows debate still
smolders
Oral histories of descendants rife with controversy
By Carrie A. Moore
Deseret News religion editor
The details on two
separate historical markers erected years after the Mountain Meadows Massacre reflect the
continuing tensions and questions that surround the slaughter of Arkansas emigrants to
this day.
The Arkansas plaque marks the place where 150 residents of
that state embarked on a wagon train cattle drive to California, only to be
"massacred by Mormons disguised as Indians," according to the text, which also
notes that 17 small children survived the September 1857 attack in southern Utah.
An old Utah marker, erected in 1934 near Mountain Meadows,
noted the wagon train members were murdered by "Indians and whites."
While none of the perpetrators or victims survive, the
stories told by descendants of each group involved continue to shape their collective
identities and affect the relationships between them to this day.
That is according to Shannon Novak, a forensic
anthropologist at the University of Utah, who examined the skeletal remains of the
massacre victims and is now conducting a two-year study of the oral and written traditions
about the events.
During a presentation Wednesday at the U., Novak outlined
the widely differing accounts of the murders among the descendants of Latter-day Saints
and American Indians who participated in or witnessed the massacre, as well as those of
the wagon train's two surviving family clans, dubbed the "black Fanchers" and
the "red Fanchers" to distinguish the descendants of wagon train leader
Alexander Fancher through his two surviving children.
Historians associated with The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints have focused on the "special circumstances" prevalent in Utah
at the time, she said. The U.S. Army's presence in the Utah Territory (then a theocracy
led by Brigham Young), rumors about the Fancher party's connection to the Haun's Mill
massacre of Latter-day Saints years earlier, and an alleged planned attack on the Fancher
party by Indians in southern Utah all figure large into official versions of the events,
Novak said.
"Whether this interpretation is supported by
historical evidence is a matter of scholarly debate," she said, and several
historians have written detailed treatises examining the culpability of various parties.
Some believed from the outset that the massacre was orchestrated by top LDS leaders.
Though there is no definitive history of the event, John D.
Lee was eventually convicted and executed for the murders. A leading member of the LDS
Church in southern Utah at the time, Lee's involvement led Novak to examine the effect on
his descendants who live there, as well as those of Samuel Knight, another Latter-day
Saint who participated.
She has also talked with members of two Paiute Indian bands
that were living in the area at the time as well as descendants of the Fancher party in
Arkansas.
Many of Lee's descendants are torn between their loyalty to
the LDS Church and their affection for a common ancestor that some believe paid "the
ultimate price to protect Brigham Young and the church." Some even "hint that
Lee was a Christ-like figure who died so the church could be saved," and believe they
continue to bear a disproportionate share of the burden for the events.
Southern Paiutes had become dependent on LDS settlers for
their livelihood in the years before the massacre, she said, and became the LDS scapegoat
among southern Utah church leaders at the time. Their version of events was either ignored
or discounted historically, and it is only in the past few years that researchers have
begun to probe their oral histories.
The accounts agree the Paiutes only heard and watched from
a distance as the massacre unfolded, though they knew they would be blamed for the
murders, she said. While there is no evidence that any of the Paiutes interviewed actually
descend from those who knew about the massacre, there is now a tension between many tribe
members' current loyalty to the LDS Church and to their ethnic forbears.
Accounts by descendants of the survivors tend to focus on
desecration of the bodies and the fate of the 17 small children who were spared, Novak
said. Dialogue has been spurred in recent years by the Internet, which has afforded the
Fanchers a medium to publish their versions of the events, some of which differ widely
from LDS historical accounts.
While some versions are "surprisingly
sympathetic" toward Latter-day Saints, noting their long history of persecution,
others emphasize a lasting, "bitter hatred of everything that smacked of
Mormonism," she said. Yet having Latter-day Saints as common enemies has given many
Fanchers a cause to unite, despite deep divisiveness and even bloodshed among members of
the descending family groups.
As a result, Novak sees "no end to the social and
political fallout." Her study of the skeletal remains of the victims, along with
information gleaned from descendants, will appear in a future book to be published by the
University of Utah Press. The effort is one of several undertaken in recent years
involving the massacre. Author Wil Bagley published his findings last year, and historians
for the LDS Church are now at work on a book they say will contain new sources of
information previously unavailable.
University publishers find LDS history sells
By Peggy Fletcher Stack
The Salt Lake Tribune
In its heyday, the University of Utah Press was the premier publisher
of Mormon scholarship, producing groundbreaking works such as Sterling McMurrin's Theological
Foundations of the Mormon Religion, Leonard Arrington's Great Basin Kingdom and
biographies of colorful Mormon figures such as gunslinger Orrin Porter Rockwell and
renegade historian Juanita Brooks.
Sometime in the 1980s, though, the U. began turning to nature writing
and archaeology. By 1994, it canceled the Mormon studies series altogether.
"We didn't consciously say, 'We will never publish Mormon history
again,' " says Jeff Grathwohl, current director of U. of U. Press. "But we
didn't want to be known as the Mormon publisher, either."
Meanwhile, Elizabeth Dulany of University of Illinois Press spied a
chance to grab the LDS history niche. Around 1980, she began hanging out at Mormon History
Association meetings, schmoozing authors and scouting for manuscripts.
Mormonism was "virtually ignored by non-Mormon publishers.
Historians skirted the issue because of the religious factor," Dulany explained.
"My goal was to mainstream it into the rest of Western history and American
history."
Her tactics worked. In the past 20 years, Illinois Press has led the
way in scholarly publishing on Mormon subjects, cranking out scores of volumes, many of
them award winners. Likewise, Utah State University Press has benefited from the genre. It
has about three dozen Mormon history titles in its collection and has no plans to slack
off. The works are rigorously scrutinized before publication to ensure they are more
scholarly than faith-promoting, USU Press director Michael Spooner says.
"This is not BYU North," he says.
Now U. of U. Press wants back into the competition. Sales of
environmental tomes seem to have dried up just as books such as Jon Krakauer's Under
the Banner of Heaven and two explorations of the Mountain Meadows Massacre enjoyed
breathtaking success.
Last November, U. of U. Press hired acquisition editor Peter DeLafosse
and told him to focus on Utah, the Mormons and the West. He has found two new projects: a
biography of former LDS President David O. McKay and a look at recent forensic
work on the remains of Mountain Meadows victims.
Says Grathwohl: "We are well-aware there's a market to be
tapped."
By Martin Naparsteck
The Salt Lake Tribune
American Massacre
By Sally Denton
Knopf, $26.95
Brigham Young, as portrayed in Sally Denton's American Massacre, is a
murderer and liar and commits treason. Her case is more strongly stated than in the two
best previous books on the same subject, Juanita Brooks' 1950 Mountain Meadows Massacre
and Will Bagley's 2002 Blood of the Prophets.
For those who view Young as a great man who did little or no wrong, her
tone will be blasphemous; for those who view him as a self-centered dictator or worse, her
argument will seem highly credible.
When the 1857 massacre occurred at Mountain Meadows in southwestern Utah -- the
cold-blooded murder of at least 120 men, women and children on a wagon train headed from
Arkansas to California -- LDS Church officials claimed Paiute Indians were responsible.
Now, almost a century and a half after the event, nearly all reputable historians believe
the murderers were white Mormons. Up to 50 Mormons took part in the murders, but only John
D. Lee was punished; he was executed at the meadows 20 years later. Although he was
clearly guilty, history also judged Lee to be a sacrificial lamb whose death by firing
squad ended two decades of investigation into just how high in the church culpability
reached.
There is disagreement among historians about exactly how many people
were killed, how many Mormons took part in the murders, how much loot was taken, how many
small children survived. But one overarching question dominates historical inquiries into
the massacre: Did Brigham Young order the killings?
Gordon B. Hinckley, current president of the church, speaking at 1999
ceremonies marking the placement of a monument that for the first time acknowledged
Mormons were responsible, said: "That which we have done here must never be construed
as an acknowledgment on the part of the church of any complicity in the occurrences of
that fateful day."
Brooks, a devout member of the church, showed great courage in
publishing her book at a time when she risked excommunication and social ostracism. But
she never seriously addressed the question of Young's involvement. She merely asked the
question and, in essence, answered that there wasn't enough evidence on either side to
answer it. Bagley (who writes a history column for The Salt Lake Tribune) used numerous
sources not available to Brooks and concluded, essentially, that nothing of significance
could occur in Utah in 1857 without Young's knowledge and approval. He stopped about a
quarter-inch short of saying Young ordered the killings.
Denton comes even closer to saying Young knew in advance and probably
ordered the killings. She gets as close to making that charge as a serious scholar can
(and this book, regardless of whether you agree with the author's conclusions, is indeed
serious scholarship) without a signed confession.
She repeatedly calls Young a dictator, depicts him as mean-spirited and
claims he lied when he denied that Mormons perpetrated the killings.
The massacre occurred after President James Buchanan ordered the U.S.
Army to remove Young from office. Young had been appointed governor of Utah Territory by
President Millard Fillmore and ran Utah more as a theocracy than as a territory of the
United States. Buchanan intended to establish U.S. authority over Utah. Young responded by
putting Utah under martial law, ordering the destruction of army supplies and preparing to
go to war with the United States. Under any reasonable definition of the term, he was
guilty of treason.
Buchanan avoided a shooting war between Utah and the United States
partly by promising Young and other Mormon leaders a pardon from charges of treason. The
war was averted, but the massacre had taken place.
Brooks wrote near the end of her book, "While Brigham Young . . .
did not specifically order the massacre, [he] did preach sermons and set up social
conditions which made it possible."
Bagley wrote, "As long as modern [church leaders] deny that the
LDS church had 'any complicity in the occurrences of that fateful day,' they can never
come to terms with the truth."
Denton writes, "Within the context of the era and the history of
Brigham Young's complete authoritarian control over his domain and his followers, it is
inconceivable that a crime of this magnitude could have occurred without direct orders
from him."
There is a progression worthy of note, from Brooks' courage in defying
her church to the thorough and convincing scholarship of Bagley to the daring accusation
of Denton. It is like three trial lawyers working together: Brooks with the opening
argument, Bagley presenting endless details to the jury and Denton with the summation.
In Lee's first trial, the jury was hung because a majority of the
jurors were Mormon and perhaps acting on orders from church leaders. In the second trial,
church leaders, seeking to end the country's insistence that someone be punished, may have
instructed the jurors to find him guilty.
The jury of readers of history must now decide whom they take orders
from: a church leadership embarrassed by its past or their own consciences.
-----
Martin Naparsteck reviews books from and about the West for The Salt
Lake Tribune.
Thursday, March 25, 2004 - 12:00 AM
WASHINGTON, Utah -- City officials are determined to honor pioneer John D. Lee with a statue despite his part in the Mountain Meadows Massacre of 120 men, women and children.
The statue will be placed by those of pioneers Samuel J. Adair, Robert D. Covington, John P.Chidester and Peter Nielson in the horseshoe-shaped memorial in front of the Washington City Museum. It will be dedicated May 7.
Lee's statue "is a part of the pioneer plaza and is not the focal point," said Mayor Terrill Clove. "He helped establish the city. All (these settlers) left a significant story."
Kent Bylund of the Mountain Meadows Association said he could not believe the city was going to go ahead with the statue, which he said would be an insult to the victims' descendants and negative for Lee's family.
"It would be in bad taste ... (and) I feel bad for John D. Lee and his family," Bylund said.
Washington resident Bill Loader wrote the council that while Lee might have made contributions, his act at Mountain Meadows outweighed others.
"Yes, I can forgive him and acknowledge his contributions as
a pioneer. The problem I have is rubbing the descendants' noses in this infamous affair by
erecting a statue of a man whose name symbolizes the act that caused their forebearers'
death," Loader said.
Southern Utah city to raise statue of John D. Lee
March 26, 2004
The eyes of a statue of pioneer John D. Lee will stare out over Washington City beginning May 7. (Jerry Anderson) |
By Mark Havnes
The Salt Lake Tribune
WASHINGTON CITY -- John D. Lee -- early Utah developer, farmer,
explorer, diplomat, adopted son of Brigham Young and executed killer -- is about to be
elevated to a pedestal overlooking this expanding southwestern city.
A life-size bronze statue of Lee has been standing in the corner of an
art studio for more than a year, waiting to see if it will join the statues of four other
Mormon pioneers who started Washington City, two miles north of St. George.
The problem was, should the city honor a man who, in September 1857,
took part in the massacre at Mountain Meadows of 120 Arkansas settlers on their way to
California?
"The time has come to do it," said Mayor Terrill Clove on
Thursday. "Its risky, but we're going to go for it."
The statue will join those of Samuel Adair, Robert Covington, John
Chidester and Peter Neilson who, along with Lee, helped carve this community out of the
red desert landscape on orders of LDS Church President Young.
The unveiling will be May 7 during Cotton Days in front of the Old Rock
School, which contains the city museum.
Many here feel Lee was sacrificed to appease authorities and that his
life as a settler of the community went beyond his infamous reputation as the only man
tried and convicted of in the massacre. He was executed by a firing squad in 1877.
"Lee bought property here to grow cotton, built a mill and was
involved as a liaison with the Indians," said Clove.